The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean (читаем полную версию книг бесплатно txt) 📗
The day dawned and young Henry, aged sixteen and reckoned to be the most handsome prince in the world, was crowned by Roger de Pont l’Eveque as King of England.
The King watched with complacence. He had yet again proved that he could do without an Archbishop of Canterbury, and he had secured the succession – so he believed.
He himself was thirty-seven years of age and constantly engaged in battle as he was he might meet his death at any time.
All was well. England would have a king to follow him, if by mischance he were to meet his end.
Chapter XV
TRAITOR’S MEADOW
There was one who was not pleased by the coronation and that was the King of France. It was the custom for kings of France to have their eldest sons crowned before their deaths and so make a new king who could step right on to the throne when the old man died. But what of his daughter? Was she not the wife of young Henry? Why was she not crowned?
Louis then began to make attacks on the Vexin for he said that if Henry did not regard her as young Henry’s wife and queen, he saw no reason why he should have her dowry.
Henry decided that it was easier to crown Marguerite and make peace with Louis than to stand out against the crowning and have to make war. One thing he could not do was lose the Vexin. While he was in France the Archbishop of Rouen visited him, and the reason for his visit was to tell him that the Pope wished him to make his peace with Thomas Becket.
It was an impossible situation. For several years England’s Archbishop had been in exile and this displeased the Pope. Becket would be happy to return to his post. It was for the King to invite him to. If he did not the Pope had hinted that he would have no alternative but to excommunicate the King of England.
Henry pretended to consider the matter. To see Thomas again! He had to admit that the idea was not displeasing. On the contrary it filled him with an excitement he could not understand. He was in excellent spirits when he met Louis to take leave from him before returning to England.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘that thief of yours shall have his peace and a good one too.’
‘By the saints of France, what thief pray?’ asked Louis.
‘That Archbishop of Canterbury of ours,’ answered Henry.
‘I wish he were ours as well as yours,’ replied the King of France. ‘You will please God and man if you make a good peace with him, and I shall be ever more grateful to you.’
It was dawn and the meeting was to take place in a green field which was called Traitor’s Meadow. The King of France, although he was stationed near by, had declared that he would not be present at the meeting for he realised that it would be an emotional encounter.
Henry surrounded by a few of his knights rode ahead of his party into the meadow, and there he waited until he saw approaching from the opposite direction the well -known figure and two of his friends riding on either side of him.
Oh God, thought Henry, is this he? He who used to look so fine on his horse in his magnificent cloak lined with fur. The years have ill used him. He spurred his horse that he might ride ahead and greet his old friend. Thomas did the same and in that field they faced each other.
‘Thomas,’ said Henry, his voice shaken with emotion.
‘My lord King.’
Henry dismounted and Thomas did the same. Then the King held out his arms and they embraced.
‘Thomas, it has been so long since we met.’
‘It is five years,’ replied Thomas. ‘A long time for a man to be away from his home.’
‘I have thought of you often and the days we used to spend together. I doubt I ever laughed as much as I did with you. Why did you plague me so? Why could you not have been as I wished?’
‘Because I was your Archbishop, my lord, and I owed my all egiance first to God and then to you.’
‘I wanted you to have the highest honour. You knew that.’
‘It was an honour that should have come to me through my service to God, not through your favour.’
‘By God’s eyes, what troubles we have made for ourselves! My son Henry talks of you fondly. You bewitched him, Thomas.’
‘I am glad that he did not lose his love for me.’
‘Nay. ’Tis hard to do that. You will come back to England, Thomas. Canterbury has been too long without its Archbishop. Your lands shall be restored to you.’
Thomas smiled but sadly. He knew Henry so well. How often in the past had his emotion extracted promises from him which in cooler moments he had not kept. Yet it was pleasant to be with this man, this Henry, for had they not loved each other well?
‘I have often thought,’ said the King, ‘that I would take the cross to the Holy Land. If I did, Thomas, I would leave my son Henry in your care.’
‘He is almost a man now with a will of his own.’
‘Yet he would be guided by you and this would I do if I were to leave on a crusade.’
Leave on a crusade! Leave England! Leave Normandy, Anjou, Aquitaine! These were the meaning of life to him. He would never leave them. But he liked to dream. He wished to show Thomas that he loved him, so he let himself indulge in this fancy.
‘I could not undertake a secular office,’ said Thomas. ‘But if you so desired I would give my advice to the young King.’
‘Thomas, you shall return. We will forget our differences. Come back to us soon.’
‘My lord is good,’ said Thomas. ‘There are certain bishops who have offended against the Church. None but the Archbishop of Canterbury should have crowned the young King. Those churchmen who agreed to this should be called to task for doing so.’
The King’s affability was a little strained at this.
‘I believed that as King of England I was entitled to have my son crowned wherever and by whomsoever I wished.
You will remember how my grandfather and great-grandfather were crowned.’
‘My lord, when the Conqueror was crowned by Aldred of York the throne of Canterbury was virtually vacant. Stigand had not at that time received the pal from a legitimate Pope. As for your grandfather Henry I, when he was crowned Anselm the Archbishop was in exile. The Bishop of Hereford crowned him as Anselm’s representative and as soon as Anselm returned he was requested to perform a new coronation.’
‘’Tis true,’ said Henry. ‘And you shall perform a coronation for my son and this time his wife shall be with him for the King of France was sorely vexed because his daughter was not crowned with Henry.’
Thomas knelt then at the King’s feet; Henry leaned forward and lifted him. Then he embraced him. This was indeed a reconciliation.
Chapter XVI
MURDER
Six years before he had escaped from the town of Sandwich and now he came back to it. His servants had set up the cross of Canterbury on the prow and as the little boat came in the people came down to the shore to welcome him. Many of them waded in the water battling for the honour of helping him ashore. On that strand many knelt and asked for his blessing.
One man shouted: ‘Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.’ And some of them shouted: ‘Hosanna.’
As he took the road to Canterbury people fell in behind him. They cried out: ‘He is back among us. God has blessed us and given him back to us.’
In the city of Canterbury itself they set all the bells ringing; people dressed themselves in their finest garments; they filled the streets; they cried to each other that all was well with Canterbury for Thomas Becket was back.
Thomas walked into the cathedral. The joy of being in his own church was unsurpassed. He sat on the throne and one by one his monks came to receive the kiss of peace and the people who had crowded into the cathedral looked on with awe.
Some whispered to the others: ‘All is well now. He is back.’
